Just the Way You Are
by Panamint
Summary: COMPLETE! Dick is tired of hearing how much he and Bruce look alike, so he decides to do something about it. Please R&R. PLEASE! :
1. Part One

_**Just the Way You Are**_

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own the song. I do not own any of the characters, except Principal McNeilson and Grace Winslow, although I do own the story itself, so don't go borrowing it without my permission!! As if anyone would actually want it… oh, and I also own the 'stuff' (don't ask, just read).**

* * *

"_Don't go trying some new fashion__  
Don't change the color of your hair__  
You always have my unspoken passion__  
Although I may not seem to care."_

**_From the song 'Just the Way You Are',  
composed and sung by Billy Joel  
_(Which is murder to play on the piano, btw... DON'T TRY IT!!)**

Dick sighed heavily. He hated these late-night parties… well, not so much the 'late-night' part. Alfred rarely let him stay up past nine o'clock, and these parties were an excuse to stay awake until eleven because Bruce had to show him around to everyone.

The 'party' was a different story. All the guests would always laugh (a lot) and talk (even more than laugh) and drink (sometimes even more than the first two put together) until it almost drove Dick up the wall. And all those women would always pinch his cheek or pat him on the head as if he were a dog and say how cute he was or how much he had grown since the last party (which was usually about a week ago). In fact, Dick wasn't sure whether he'd rather go to bed at the usual time instead of suffer through these parties.

At least it was already ten-thirty. Another half-hour and the guests would all be gone. Then Alfred would escort him up to his bedroom and make sure he was safe in bed before going back downstairs and cleaning up the party mess.

"Good-bye, Mr. Wayne, and thank you—it was such a lovely party," some senator's wife gushed with a huge smile.

"The pleasure was all mine," Bruce assured her, even while he was thinking how lucky he would be if he never saw her again. She really was quite annoying. How did that senator put up with her? That was probably how he got elected to the senate—extreme resistance to annoying women.

"And are sure this little imp isn't your son? You two look _so _much alike!" she jested.

Trying to keep the annoyance out of his voice, Bruce replied in what he hoped was a joking tone, "Yes, I'm very sure he's not… my son."

Dick rolled his eyes. How many times would he be put through this agonizing routine?! He himself didn't mind, of course, but it must be torture for Bruce, being told a hundred times over that some orphan looked exactly like you.

"Well, good-bye, and thank you so very much for inviting us."

"You're welcome."

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The next day was Sunday, so Dick could—fortunately—sleep as late as he wanted to make up for going to bed two hours later than usual. And by Monday morning, Dick was back to his normal, wake-up-at-five-o'clock-in-the-morning self.

Once, back when he didn't know better than to ask such dumb questions, Bruce had asked Dick why he bothered to wake up so early when it wasn't Christmas, to which the boy had replied, "Force of habit—I always got up at five so I could help the animal trainers clean out the animal cages before anyone else got up."

After that, as long as they weren't hurting anyone, Bruce never again questioned Dick's somewhat-odd habits.

At school that day, several boring things happened, but only one of these events actually pertain to what will happen later, so that is the only one that will be mentioned in this story.

Dick and a friend of his, Grace Winslow, were walking down the hall to their class after lunch when they met up with the Miss McNeilson. The pretty, brown-haired principal had been heading back to her office after suspending somebody.

"Oh, hello!" she greeted as cheerfully as one can after being put through the agony of listening to some enraged mother insisting that her darling couldn't possibly be guilty.

"Good morning, Miss McNeilson," Dick and Grace responded in unison.

McNeilson glanced down at the newspaper in her hands. It was opened and folded to the society page. Specifically, it was on the article about Bruce Wayne's latest social gathering.

"You know, Dick, I don't know if anyone has ever told you this, but… you look an _awful lot_ like Mr. Wayne," Miss McNeilson observed. "In fact, if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were father and son!"

"Really?" Dick said, trying to sound interested.

"Yes. Haven't you ever noticed?"

_'Noticed'? Are you kidding? How can I forget when everybody keeps reminding Bruce and annoying him about it? _Dick thought irritably.

"Now that you mention it…"

"Oh, if you don't mind Miss McNeilson," interrupted Grace. "We'll be late for class if we don't go now."

"Yes, of course, I'm sorry. Have a good day!"

"You, too, Miss McNeilson!"

Dick continued to think: _There has got to be some way to stop people from saying that Bruce and I look alike. Come on, think! Umm… ah-ha! Yes, that's what I'll do._

Inspiration had struck.

Dick told Grace to go on to class without him and scurried off to the Teachers' Lounge before she could ask any prying questions. Nobody was in the Lounge at that moment, since class was already starting and the teachers were now at their respective classrooms. So it was with no witnesses that Dick dialed the number.

"Hello, Alfred... no, I haven't set the school on fire… ha, ha, very funny… listen, Grace invited me over after school, so could you pick me up around six-thirty instead?... Great, thanks, bye!"

As soon as school was out for the day, however, Dick didn't go to Grace's house. Instead, he hurried off in the opposite direction towards the drug store.

The annoying little bell tinkled as Dick entered the small shop.

"Hello, sir, I was wondering if you could help me…"

--------------------------

Later that same evening, Dick sat in front of the mirror in his private bathroom. When he had first arrived, Dick had been shocked at the size of stately Wayne Manor. In fact, his closet was bigger than the trailer in which had lived in while with the Haly Circus! Then, of course, when he had seen the bathroom, he had been even more surprised. It seemed that the entire circus could put on a performance in it, with room for the audience!

But now, Dick could see everything in their correct proportions—his trailer had been extremely small, Wayne Manor was extremely large, and the rest of America lived in houses somewhere between the two.

Dick picked up the bottle he had gotten from the drug store that afternoon. He had fully intended on reading the directions carefully, but after hearing footsteps come dangerously close to his bedroom one too many times, Dick's paranoia had taken over. He merely skimmed through the instructions and then began.

An hour later, Dick rinsed one last time and checked the mirror.

The only reason he didn't scream was because, if Alfred ever found out, he would probably scream even louder.

**_To Be Continued..._**

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**Me: Oh, boy, what has Dick done now? Come back next week to find out--same Bat-Time, same--**

**Dick: You say Bat-Channel and I'll tear you to pieces!!**

**Me: You wouldn't do that!**

**Dick: Give me one good reason why I shouldn't!**

**Me: Because I said so!**

**Dick: That ain't a good reason!**

**Me: Too bad. Oh, and you people out there just ignore us and review, would you please?**

**Dick: You still haven't given me a good reason!**

**Me: You wouldn't believe me if I told you.**

**Dick: Try me!!**

**Me: Okay. Would you believe me if I told you that you and everybody you know are fictional characters, and that you live in a fictional city, and that your life is completely controlled by nutzos like me?**

**Dick: Heck NO!**

**Me: I didn't think so.**


	2. Part Two

**_Just the Way You Are_**

**_Part Two_**

DISCLAIMER: The usual stuff-I don't own 'em, DC Comics (or whoever) does, which is too bad because I want 'em:)

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When Bruce woke up Tuesday morning, he knew something was wrong as soon as he set foot downstairs. He couldn't quite figure out what it was at first, but there was definitely something out of place here… 

Of course. Dick would always come running to wish him good morning. Yet today… where was that little rascal, anyhow?

Bruce wandered into the kitchen, hoping to find Dick there, perhaps half-way through with his breakfast already. However, the only one present was Alfred.

"Good morning, Master Bruce," said Alfred.

"Morning, Alfred. Where's Dick? He's usually up by now."

"I went upstairs to wake him a few minutes ago, sir. He just told me to go away and refused to explain why."

"That's not like him at all… do you have any idea…?"

"None whatsoever, sir. All I know is that he will be late for school if he doesn't hurry."

"I'll get him."

Bruce headed back upstairs, still wondering what could possible make Dick want to stay in his room. He didn't usually like being alone except when he was asleep—after all, when he had been in the circus, he had always been surrounded by people. Why the sudden change?

Bruce knocked on Dick's bedroom door.

"Who is it?" came the rather muffled reply.

"It's Bruce. Can I come in?"

"No! Leave me alone!"

He stood there, slightly taken aback. Dick had never spoken like that before; something must be seriously wrong.

"You'll be late for school if you don't hurry," Bruce continued.

"I can't go! Just leave me alone!"

"Why can't you go?"

"I… just can't. Please go away!"

Dick sounded as if he was pleading for his life and, judging by some of the other messes that Dick had gotten himself into, he just might be.

"Well, if you can't offer an explanation, then you're going to school," Bruce reasoned.

"No! Please don't make me—I can't go!"

"Why?"

"I can't tell you. But I'm not going to school! And I'm not leaving this room for as long as I live, either!"

_That does it. _

Bruce had never invaded Dick's privacy before. He knew that the boy needed his own space and wouldn't try to intrude if Dick didn't want him to. However, this was different—Dick had never spoken back to him before, either.

He pushed the door open and looked around. The shades were drawn, and only a sliver of sunshine was visible through the crack between the curtains. That was odd, too. Dick always liked bright places, and would never have closed the drapes during the daytime if he could help it.

Another unusual thing: Dick was hiding under the covers. Even on the coldest of winter days, he hated having the blankets over his head. And this was June, anyway. Why should Dick want the covers over his head in June?

Bruce sat down on the edge of the bed. Maybe it was just his imagination, but the room kind of smelled like it needed a good airing. No, Alfred had just finished his annual spring cleaning. It must be his imagination.

"Well?" Bruce asked, although it didn't sound much like a question. "I'm waiting for an explanation."

"There's nothing to explain," Dick replied. He sounded very upset.

"Then why are you hiding under the blankets with the drapes closed on a school day if there's nothing to explain?"

There was no reply, although the lump under the blankets did shift rather uncomfortably. And what _was _that smell? He was now very certain that it wasn't his imagination.

"Richard…" Bruce warned in that no-nonsense tone of voice. If Dick would respond to anything, it would be that.

"Please don't make me take the covers off!" Dick begged. He didn't just sound upset anymore—he sounded desperate.

"If you don't, I will."

"Please…!"

"_Take them off, Richard._"

Bruce heard what sounded sort of like a sigh, but Dick did as he was told. And after he had, Bruce half-wished that he had let Dick stay in bed for the rest of his life.

"Dick!" he cried. "Your… your hair!"

"I, um," Dick muttered uneasily. "I guess you want an explanation for, uh…"

"For why your hair is purple? Yes, I _would_ like to hear how you got yourself into _this _mess!"

"It's not my fault… much…"

"Yes, that's what you said about the plane tickets when you ended up in Alaska," Bruce said, sounding doubtful. He crossed his arms and added, "I'm waiting."

Dick sat up, his purple hair a tousled mess from his night-long fidgeting and worrying about what Bruce would say—or rather, do—when he found out.

"It started yesterday at school…"

"You didn't do this on a dare, did you?" Bruce asked abruptly.

"No, I'm not _that _stupid. Anyway, I was just minding my own business—really!—when Principal McNeilson came down the hall. I said hi, she said hi back and then just stared at me. After a moment, she said that… that…"

"That what?"

"That…" Dick hesitated before saying softly, "That I look just like you. Like I really was your son."

"And that's a bad thing?" Bruce questioned, sounding rather offended.

"Well, no, not really, but I thought…"

"Thought what?"

Dick sighed inwardly, relieved that Bruce no longer sounded as angry as he had a few minutes ago when he had first pulled back the covers. He took courage from this fact and managed to blurt out in a heart-broken little voice:

"Well whenever we go anywhere and people think I really am your son, you're always so quick to tell them that I'm not and I thought maybe you didn't like that I looked like you so I tried to make myself look different so you wouldn't have to put up with it anymore."

Tears glistened in the boy's eyes as he managed to finish his story:

"I went to the drug store yesterday just after school when you thought I was at Grace's house and got the stuff to dye my hair. It was supposed to be light brown by now, but I guess I didn't read the instructions right…"

"I should say not."

"I wanted to do it fast before somebody caught me so I just sort of skimmed through the directions and I_ thought _I understood them and… are you mad at me?"

"What do you think?"

Dick sighed and hung his head dejectedly as the tears began to fall.

Meanwhile, Bruce wasn't quite sure what to do. He knew Dick had acted rashly and done something that was almost too brainless for words. But he also realized that the boy wasn't entirely at fault—he shared some blame as well.

"Dick," he began, still trying to sort out what he was going to say. "If you felt that way, why didn't you just say something? If not to me, why not Alfred or Clark or… or anybody except the man at the drug store?"

"I don't know," Dick shrugged. "I just wasn't thinking right, I guess."

"You guess right! But… it's not totally your fault."

Bruce shifted his position on the bed so he could sit next to Dick and place a comforting arm around his shoulders.

"It's not?"

"No. Although a good part of it _is _your fault, I shouldn't have been so quick to deny that we're not blood relatives."

"But we aren't."

"I _know_ we aren't. I just denied it as fast as possible because I thought that other people's comments on our similarities might make you feel uncomfortable."

"Funny—that's what I thought about you," Dick grinned a little.

"I guess we both learned a lesson here, didn't we?"

"Yup: always read the directions before trying to dye your hair!"

"Dick…"

"I know, I know—don't jump to conclusions and talk to someone if you have a problem instead of going to the drug store for hair dye."

"Well, something like that," Bruce agreed, trying not to laugh. "But you just remember this, young man—no matter what anybody else says… I like you just the way you are."

Dick smiled up at him. "Really?" he asked hopefully. "You mean you don't really mind that I look like you?"

"Of course not."

Bruce smiled back in an unusual burst of friendliness.

"Now let's see what we can do about that purple hair of yours before Alfred finds out. You probably don't want to even think about what he'd say!"

"Unfortunately, I already have! But…"

"What now? You didn't actually use permanent dye, did you?"

"Heck, no, although I was planning to. I figured I'd better see if I liked the color before I decided on anything permanent."

"I'm glad to hear you had _some_ brains in your head."

"Hey! Anyway, I was just going to ask if you knew anything about turning purple hair back to black."

"…No, actually, I don't… we'd better let Alfred do it."

Dick practically fell off the edge of the bed. "WHAT!" he yelped. "You have GOT to be kidding—he'll kill me before he even gets started!"

"Consider that your punishment."

"Argh!"

Bruce fairly pulled his young ward off the bed and led him to the door. They headed downstairs together, but as soon as they were about two yards from the kitchen doorway, Bruce stopped.

"Well, good luck, old chum."

"You're _leaving_ me?"

Yes, Bruce was gone. Now, Dick was standing all alone in the hallway just outside the kitchen. He gulped and fiddled nervously with a bit of his hair, but soon ventured into the kitchen doorway.

**_To Be Continued..._**

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**Me: Why purple, you ask? Well, green was done in Anne of Green Gables, and orange was done in the last episode of _The Brady Bunch_, and pink was done in that late episode of _Full House _so purple just seemed like a good color to continue the hair-dying tradition with.**

**Dick: Plus she knows I don't like purple and wanted to be as cruel as possible.**

**Me: Just do the replies, would you!**

**Dick: What am I, your secretary?**

**Me: In a word-YES!**

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**Bumpkin-**The first reviewer! Yay, thanks! Oh, and Panamint was wondering about the incident with that friend's older sister, if you haven't been sworn the secrecy or anything. :)

**H. Brown-**Well, I'm glad _you_ liked it, because _I_ didn't have much fun! And thank you for the review.

**Esther-Channah-**Thanks for reviewing, but you sure did cause me a lot of trouble. Panamint had no clue what Lex Luthor looked like until you mentioned him. Then she did a search on the computer, found a picture and now she laughs every time I come into the room!

**rammbo-**I was kind of worried about Bruce would say, too, but as you can see, everything's okay with us now. Alfred, well, that might be a slightly different story!

**Alfie-**Panamint does come up with weird ideas, doesn't she? The only thing I wish is that she'd put those weirdness skills to work in torturing bad guys instead of torturing me, which is why we're always fighting!

**Neoinean-**Does this chapter answer that question? And thanks for leaving a review for Panamint 'to remember you by', as she puts it. :)

**SchattenShadow-**Yes, I _do _agree that it was too bad for me! And wait'll you see how they get the purple dye out... boy, was I mad!

**Jenn11-**If you like Grace, then I'll tell Panamint to try to include her in more stories. Of course, she may ignore me, as she usually does, but it's worth a try, right?


	3. Part Three

**_Just the Way You Are_**

**_Part Three_**

**DISCLAIMER: **I wouldn't be writing stupid stories if I did own them, now would I?... what do you mean, 'yes you would'? How rude!

This chapter is kind of a shorty, but I have a good reason. See, I hadn't planned to have more than two chapters, but when I saw how many of you were looking forward to Alfred's reaction, I decided to add a little something onto the end. I hope you appreciate it! XD

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"Um… Alfred? Are you in here?" Dick called quietly. 

"In the pantry, Master Dick."

Dick turned his head and, sure enough, saw Alfred reaching for something on the top shelf. Gulping again, Dick slowly walked towards the pantry.

Without looking at the boy, Alfred continued, with a slight hint of sarcasm,"I'm glad to see that Master Bruce managed to get you up, young sir. The last thing you want is to miss school, I'm sure."

"Actually… I don't think I'll be going."

"Why not, Master Dick?"

"Umm… well, you see it's like this…"

Too late. Alfred had already seen.

Dick watched for a few minutes as Alfred's expressions changed from confused to stunned to near-heart attack before deciding to tell him the whole story. Once he was finished, all the butler could do was shake his head.

"I can't believe you would do such a thing, Master Dick," he sighed.

"Well, could you just… get my hair back to normal? Please?" Dick pleaded.

Alfred sighed again. "Very well, Master Dick. I will see what I can do. Do you still have the bottle the dye came in?"

"Yeah, I'll get it."

As soon as Dick brought the bottle down from his room, Alfred looked through all the instructions carefully. After a moment, he said, "Well, Master Dick, you certainly are a very lucky young man. This type of dye should wash out fairly easily with ordinary soap and water, if you scrub long enough."

"You mean all I had to do is wash my hair?"

"Yes."

"So all I had to do was wash my hair and nobody would have found out I tried to dye it in the first place."

"Yes."

"I could have avoided that whole night of worrying by _washing my hair!"_

"Yes."

Dick smacked his forehead and groaned loudly. Alfred, ignoring the boy's dismay, led him over to the sink, wrapped a towel around his shoulders and began washing…

Less than a half-hour later, Dick checked the mirror anxiously. There he was—beige skin, blue eyes, black hair. He let out a relieved sigh.

"Thanks, Alfred. You're the best."

Dick grinned up at the butler, who smiled back.

"Now would you care for some breakfast, Master Dick?"

"So I don't have to go to school?" Dick asked hopefully.

"As long as Master Bruce doesn't object, you may remain at home and take your lessons in the Batcave for the day."

"Well… it's better than nothing. At least I look like Bruce's son again!"

_**The End**_

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Me: Um... Dick and I couldn't think of anything to argue about for this chapter. 

Dick: I can think of plenty! For example...!

Me: Like I was saying, we couldn't think of anything to argue about, so I'm just gonna advertise. As soon as I get permission from another author to use some of her stuff (or to not use some of her stuff), I'm going to post a parody of 60's-_Batman_. If you're interested, it's called 'Severe Insanity'. You'll see why when I post it!

**_Reviewer Replies_**

**neoinean-**Here is 'next', as you requested. Hope you like!

**Syl-**Thank you. And Panamint asked me to tell you to please post another chapter for "Wish Upon A Star" soon. Of course, she wasn't exactly that polite about it... ;)

**batsbutler-**Dying? Oh, boy. I hope you're not dead, because the last thing Panamint needs is a murder charge hanging over her head... you ARE still alive, aren't you? Hello?

**Esther-Channah-**Notes! HA! That's a great idea! Boy, is Scarecrow gonna regret the next time he breaks out of jail...! (Yes, Panamint has read all the "Anne" books, plus both movies.)

**Silver Tigress 07-**Lucky (for me), Alfred didn't do much, as you can see. He was pretty annoyed for the next few weeks though. Kept giving me 'if looks could kill' glares... :)


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